Fireflies
by Traxits
Summary: Zell and Irvine, a series of slice of life ficlets written for the "Fic Promptly" community on Dreamwidth.  Include Zell introducing Irvine to Balamb traditions, Irvine's favorite part of sparring with Zell, and more.
1. Fireflies

**Title**: Fireflies  
**Author**: Traxits  
**Fandom**: Final Fantasy VIII  
**Pairing**: Irvine Kinneas/Zell Dincht, established relationship.  
**Rating**: K.  
**Word Count**: 352 words.  
**Request**: Fandom: Author's choice, Pairing: Author's choice, Prompt: fireflies  
**Summary**: Zell introduces Irvine to one of Balamb's traditions. Slice of life ficlet.  
**Author's Note(s)**: Written for the "Fic Promptly" community on Dreamwidth.

**.**

**[[ … One-Shot … ]]**

**.**

Zell lay, flat on his back, in the grass. It was warm enough that he'd peeled off, rolled up, and shoved his jacket under his head. His left foot propped itself up on his right knee, bouncing lightly. The sad fact was that he probably didn't even realize he was doing it. Irvine sighed, pushing his hat back just a little.

His own jacket was under Zell, abandoned the moment Zell had announced that he was going to lay down. Irvine didn't want to hear Zell complaining about itchy grass. Or hear him fidget the entire evening.

"So, where are these things?" He pushed a finger under his hat, rubbing a drop of sweat from his scalp before it rolled down to his face. Balamb's heat was almost oppressive in the summer, and they'd been just _sitting_ there for what felt like forever already. He wasn't entirely sure how Zell was able to stand it, laying there with one foot bouncing slightly.

"And you're always telling _me_ to be patient." Zell snorted, but he didn't move from his spot. "Give it a bit, would you?"

"Zell, it's hot. The sun went down like, an hour ago and it's hardly cooled off any. I-" He stopped mid-sentence when he saw a flash of yellow-green light. It was small, blinking and darting around the edge of the nearby tree line. Zell glanced at him, and there was just enough light to tell that he was grinning widely, having spotted what cut Irvine off.

"Wait for it," he murmured, and Irvine sat up a little, his eyes widening as a second light, then a third joined the first. Another few moments, and there were too many lights to count, all blinking in the same pattern, flitting around the field. Zell sat up as well, pulling his legs up so that he could fold his arms over his knees and watch.

"They're beautiful," Irvine whispered, and Zell leaned over, resting his cheek against Irvine's shoulder. "Glowworms?"

"Hah. You're a Galbadian tourist, all right. We call them fireflies."


	2. Sparring

**Title**: Sparring  
**Author**: Traxits  
**Fandom**: Final Fantasy VIII  
**Pairing**: Irvine Kinneas/Zell Dincht, established relationship.  
**Rating**: Teen for one f-bomb.  
**Word Count**: 508 words.  
**Request**: Final Fantasy VIII, Irvine/Zell, rubdown; for the "Intimacy without Sex" category.  
**Summary**: Irvine suffers through sparring with Zell for one moment. Slice of life ficlet.  
**Author's Note(s)**: Written for the "Fic Promptly" community on Dreamwidth.

**[[ … One-Shot … ]]**

Irvine had more bruises than he ever cared to count. It seemed that no matter how much he went through all of the practices that Zell had shown him, he didn't get better. At all. Admittedly, were he sparring with anyone but Zell, he probably could have held his own better. But sparring with Zell was _distracting._

Honestly, Irvine couldn't have even said what started the whole thing. Zell liked to shadowbox, so Irvine was fairly sure that it had started that way ("I took unarmed combat too, Zell. C'mon."). However it had happened, it had rapidly become a one-a-week thing. It was a thing that Irvine looked forward too.

Not for the actual sparring match itself. That was hell. The 'match' mostly consisted of Irvine attempting to block, and Zell pulling punches when he knew they would connect. Irvine's middle was perpetually varying colors, everything from purple to a dull yellowy-brown. Sometimes, he'd sport a really good bruise on his jawline to match. He was that kind of guy, after all.

But _after_ the match. After Zell had come down slowly, after they'd showered and Irvine could wince and touch his newest bruises with ghost-like fingertips, Zell would sigh and take him back to his room. _That_ was Irvine's favorite part.

Zell had some sort of balm to put on bruises, and Irvine would get to stretch out over the bed while Zell carefully applied it to each bruise he could find.

For someone trained to kill with his fists, he had a gentle touch, and Irvine liked to watch him in the mirror, where Zell didn't notice. Zell had a variety of expressions as he would work, and Irvine had rapidly categorized them. There was the 'oh-shit' expression, where Zell's brow would furrow and his jaw would tense as he applied the balm to a particularly bad bruise. That one was always accompanied by a low, "You're fuckin' suicidal, Kinneas."

Irvine often wondered if there wasn't a small kernel of truth in that statement.

Then there was the 'concentrating' expression, where Zell would part his lips and bite just the tip of his tongue as he applied bruise balm. That one was the most common, and Irvine had often wondered if Zell even realized that he did it. Just slightly less common was the 'proud-of-himself' expression, where Zell's lips would quirk in a little grin and his eyes would widen just a touch. It popped up whenever Irvine's bruises made a particularly interesting pattern.

The craziest thing about the whole scenario though, was the very simple fact that Zell knew him better than anyone else. He knew that little patch of skin over Irvine's ribs where he was impossibly ticklish; he knew that if he applied just the right amount of pressure on a certain point on Irvine's back, Irvine would melt under him. It was unnerving on many levels, and in some ways, it made the moment that much more... something.

Irvine wasn't the sort of guy to question. He just went with it.


	3. Waves

**Title**: Waves  
**Author**: Traxits  
**Fandom**: Final Fantasy VIII  
**Pairing**: Irvine Kinneas/Zell Dincht, established relationship.  
**Rating**: K.  
**Word Count**: 297 words.  
**Request**: Final Fantasy VIII (8), Zell Dincht, surfing.  
**Summary**: Irvine wonders on Zell's fascination with the ocean. Slice of life ficlet.  
**Author's Note(s)**: Written for the "Fic Promptly" community on Dreamwidth.

**[[ … One-Shot … ]]**

There was something almost magical about watching him in the water. The way he got excited when he saw the waves crashing on the shoreline never ceased to delight Irvine, if only because he didn't understand it.

Zell had been in the ocean since he was a kid; part of growing up in Balamb. Every inch of his body was tanned from the hours he spent in the sun, surfing and swimming and snorkeling and whatever else he managed to do while in the water. After it all, he'd drag out of the ocean and collapse in the sand- sometimes on the blanket he brought, and sometimes not- and just lay there, letting the sun bake the water off of him.

But Irvine didn't understand the fascination with the shore, the beach. The waves that Zell so fearlessly paddled out to meet caused an almost terror in him, although he'd never admit it to the blond. Sitting in the sand, watching Zell glance over his shoulder as he aligned the board, seeing him push up to his feet and _stand_ on the narrow plank of wood...

Sometimes it was almost too much. Irvine would hardly be able to stand the fear rising in the back of his throat.

And other times the sun would be just right behind the blond, the wave would be _perfect_, and Zell would jog up the beach, a grin so wide that it threatened to split his face. He'd drop the board in the sand near Irvine, fall into his lap and kiss him with a ferocity that was just as surprising as Zell enthusiasm for such a strange pastime.

Irvine didn't understand the fascination that Zell had with the water, but it was okay. He didn't have to. He accepted it.


End file.
